


Cancelled

by VioletHaze



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dean Winchester Has a Fear of Flying, M/M, SPN Holiday Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 20:39:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17190008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletHaze/pseuds/VioletHaze
Summary: Flight DL8121 MCI-OAK *CANCELLED*Dean whipped his head up. The man across the way was absorbed in a book. “Are you going to Oakland?”“Yes.”Dean waved his phone at him. “Did they just cancel our flight?”The man dug his phone out of his jacket pocket. Frowning at it, he said. “It would appear so.”Dean had prepared for every eventuality, including his likely death as the plane tumbled out of the sky. Every eventuality except one, apparently. “What the fuck.” If the man was alarmed by his language, he didn’t show it. Dean’s voice rose. “What do we do now?”Dean sank weakly back into his seat as his vision started to tunnel. A moment later the man had crossed over to sit beside him. “Are you all right?” Dean shook his head and gasped for air. The man put a hand on his shoulder. “Put your head between your knees. Catch your breath.”





	Cancelled

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2018 Holiday Mixtape Challenge! Thank you Lauren and Muse for a fun, low-stress experience. Big thanks to the incredible [Aceriee](https://missaceriee.tumblr.com) for offering to step in last minute and creating not just a gorgeous piece of art, but the header and dividers as well! It's been such a joy getting to know you and I'm so happy we were able to work together on this! Check out the art on [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17182949) and [tumblr](https://missaceriee.tumblr.com/tagged/hmt18cvh)! 
> 
> Special thanks to [Nicky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickelmd) for the beta read.

 

 

 

It was oh dark thirty when Dean arrived at the airport. He’d triple checked that he had his ID and his boarding pass, printing it out at home because there were too many things that could go wrong if he only had it on his phone. What if he lost his phone or the battery died? His stress level was such that he imagined himself blanking on his own goddamned passcode and being left at the gate as his plane flew off to California without him.

Bobby had offered to drive him to the airport, not batting an eye when Dean had wanted to go so ridiculously early. He'd merely confirmed the time and been there waiting when Dean came out into the dark with his suitcase. When they pulled up the departures door, there'd been a shoulder slapping sort of hug, then he'd hustled out of the truck, too busy looking for where to check in to even notice the bone-cold chill of late December. At least the forecasted weather was clear, not a line of storms anywhere in the midwest to throw things off. Dean knew he was being irrational by getting here so early, but there was so much about this trip that he couldn’t control. Hence the setting of an alarm so that he could check in exactly twenty-four hours before his flight and the purchasing of travel-sized everything so that he could get through security without having any of his liquids confiscated. Pulling his suitcase behind him, he found the proper line and wheeled around the stanchion to join it. As he waited, he patted the outside pocket of his suitcase again to be sure that his quart-sized ziploc bag was easily removable for the security line.

Despite the early hour, the airport was surprisingly busy and he had to stand in line for quite awhile, slowly creeping forward until he arrived at the check-in desk.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Morning.” Dean smiled at the woman as he carefully unfolded his boarding pass and slid it across the counter to her. She didn’t react but his smile turned to a frown as he worried that creasing it was maybe illegal.

“I’ll need your photo ID as well.” She said it kindly but Dean, already on edge, scrambled to pull his wallet out of his back pocket, knocking over his suitcase in the process. Swearing softly, he righted it, then fumbled as he tried to slide his driver’s license from the windowed slot. He was sure the rest of the line was groaning loudly as he held things up.

He finally passed her the license, hoping she couldn’t feel the dampness from his sweaty fingertips. “Are you checking a bag?”

He knew the answer to this one. “No, ma’am.” He’d measured his bag twice to make sure it fit within the appropriate carry on dimensions.

She handed back his ID and boarding pass. “No need to stop here, then. You can go directly to security.”

“Oh.” Dean took back his things. “Ok, sorry.”  He’d wasted enough people’s time already so he didn’t bother trying to put his license back, grabbing for his suitcase handle with one hand while clasping the paper and license in the other. He made it three steps from the counter before he dropped his license and had to come to a skidding halt to retrieve it before it got stepped on by a primly dressed woman. “Sorry,” he said again.

He found an out of the way spot to reorganize his belongings, then wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. At this point, he wasn’t convinced he loved or missed Sam enough to be making this trip. Bobby would still be on the road and he could call right now and ask him to come back to the airport and pick him up. Taking in a couple of slow, deep breaths, he thought about Sam spending Christmas alone, and that was enough to have him heading toward the security line.

Getting his boots off while balancing on one foot was awkward, but he managed it smoothly enough to be pleased about it. His ziploc bag of liquids was easy to pull out, but nobody seemed that impressed by it. He’d bought a box of quart-sized bags specifically for this, but it wasn’t until his bin disappeared into the scanner that he realized he’d somehow expected the TSA agent to praise his organizational skills and attention to detail. Only one hurdle left before he could get through security, and then he’d have plenty of time to go be anxious at the gate. All he had to do there was sit. Or pace. Or whatever.

Pulling his shoulders back, he walked confidently in his socked feet through the metal detector.

BEEP

This time he did hear the person behind him groan.

“Any metal on you?”

This was it. He was going to airport jail. He was sure he’d left his pocket knife at home and his keys and phone were in the bin with his shoes. Panicked, Dean patted his pockets. “No, nothing.”

“Your belt, sir.”

_Shit._ He started to unbuckle it, but the TSA agent twirled a finger at him to indicate that he needed to go back through. It beeped again as he crossed to the other side to finish pulling off his belt. He tried to hand it to the woman monitoring the machine, but she pointed to the conveyor belt and he dropped it there, holding up the line yet again as he tried a second time. He felt it was important to keep his face impassive, but friendly, like that would somehow alleviate any suspicion. Whatever the reason (it was totally the belt), this time he made it through without issue. He smiled at the agent, who merely motioned for him to keep going.

Gathering his things, he found a bench to sit on to put himself back together. Despite having made it through the screening, he was half-convinced the agents might still change their minds and pull him aside for a full cavity check. All around him, other people seemed to be navigating the system effortlessly. Business travelers in crisp suits strode past him, acting like this was just a normal day for them. Nobody else seemed to be covered in the sheen of sweat that Dean was sure made him look guilty.

Boots on and belt buckled, he felt accomplished enough to set off towards his gate with a renewed spring in his step. It might not have been pretty, but thus far he’d navigated all of his obstacles.  Well, other than the actual flying, but now he could focus on preparing for that. Checking his phone, he saw that he still had two and a half hours until his flight. Which probably explained why scarcely anyone was even walking in the direction of his gate. It was so early that most of the shops he passed were still closed up. The almost-empty hallway was disconcerting enough that he stopped and pulled out his boarding pass to reassure himself that he had the gate number correct.

He found the gate at the very end of the corridor in a small area that housed two other gates as well. His flight wasn’t even up on the display board yet, but a few people were scattered around the seating area. Dean chose a seat at the end of an empty row, keeping his back to the window. No point in looking at the flying metal death tubes until he had no other choice. A man sat facing the windows, maybe five or six seats down. His suit, tie, and briefcase told Dean he knew what he was doing. Hell, if that weren’t enough, an actual trench coat was folded neatly over the seat next to him. The guy was good looking, with dark hair and a jawline to die for. Smart, professional, and way out of Dean’s league. He didn’t bother looking up as Dean took his seat, but it made Dean feel better to be in the same orbit of somebody who knew what the fuck to do.

Pulling out his phone, Dean texted his brother, even though he was most likely asleep. _At the gate with plenty of time to spare. See you soon._

_Already? Your flight isn’t for like three hours._

Before Dean could text back a hearty _shut up_ , another text notification popped up.

_Flight DL8121 MCI-OAK *CANCELLED*_

Dean whipped his head up. The man across the way was absorbed in a book. “Are you going to Oakland?”

“Yes.”

Dean waved his phone at him. “Did they just cancel our flight?”

The man dug his phone out of his jacket pocket. Frowning at it, he said. “It would appear so.”

Dean had prepared for every eventuality, including his likely death as the plane tumbled out of the sky. Every eventuality except one, apparently. “What the fuck.” If the man was alarmed by his language, he didn’t show it. Dean’s voice rose. “What do we do now?”

Dean felt a wave of panic wash over him as he swiveled his head around. None of the three podiums in the gate area were staffed and there was no employee anywhere to be seen. Without the vaguest idea of where to start, Dean got to his feet like that would somehow make an airline agent magically appear. Did he need to go back to the check in counter and start again? Was he even allowed to go back through the security checkpoint? The man was calmly making a phone call. “Thirty minute hold time,” he announced, before disconnecting.

Dean sank weakly back into his seat as his vision started to tunnel. A moment later the man had crossed over to sit beside him. “Are you all right?” Dean shook his head and gasped for air. The man put a hand on his shoulder. “Put your head between your knees. Catch your breath.”

Dean leaned forward, feeling the blood rush back in. The hand on his shoulder was a warm weight anchoring him. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, as the ugly carpet came into focus and he was able to speak. “I hate to fly. I got this far and I thought all I had to do was get on the actual plane and that was bad enough and then this happened and oh god now I’m rambling.” The man’s stunning blue eyes were fixed on Dean with a startling intensity and something about that distracted Dean enough to stop talking.

“Better?”

Dean just nodded, eyes still locked on him.

“First things first, my name is Cas.” He held out his hand for Dean to shake. “We’ll get this figured out, ok?”

“I’m Dean. I’m not usually like this, I swear.” Dean could be cool and confident. He could charm the pants of men and women. He knew how to handle himself in pretty much every other situation but here he was falling apart in front of one of the most attractive men he’d ever laid eyes on.

Cas took one more look around the gate area. “Let’s go find someone to help us.”

On shaky legs, Dean stood and found his phone still clasped in his hand. “I need to text my brother first and let him know what’s going on.”

“Is that who you are going to see?”

Dean nodded as he tapped out a message to Sam, suddenly despondent at the possibility of not being able to see him after all. He scrubbed a hand across his face. “He goes to Stanford and I haven’t seen him since he left for school three months ago.”

“I’m sure they’ll be able to put us on a later flight.” Cas gathered up his coat and his bag and they headed back down the hallway. As they walked, Cas talked steadily to Dean, telling him that he was traveling for business, and doling out his opinions on the various still-closed restaurants they passed. Dean listened, but even though his brain wasn’t processing all the words, the voice was soothing, almost something physical for Dean to hold on to as he let Cas lead the way through the airport.

Sam texted him as they walked. _Oh shit. What are you going to do?_

_Not sure. But we’re looking for someone to help us._

When they finally located an airport employee at a gate that was marked for Phoenix, Cas smoothly plucked the boarding pass out of Dean’s hand. “We just received word that our flight to Oakland was cancelled. Can we be rebooked on a later flight?”

The request was simple, the words so plain and obvious, but Dean felt like he never would’ve been able to come up with them in a million years. Cas smiled at him reassuringly as she began to type. “There is availability on the 12:30 flight,” she said, her eyes still locked on the screen.

“Excellent. We’d like to be seated together, if possible.”

Dean tried not to let his face betray the leap his heart made at that.

“Certainly, Mr. Novak.”

A few moments later she printed them out new boarding passes, turning them over with a smile. “Enjoy your flight.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Dean said as they stepped away from the podium. They were in a more central part of the airport now and, with hours to kill, it didn’t seem necessary to return to the gate. A sports bar was nearby, open and serving customers. “Can I buy you a drink to say thank you?”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Dean, it’s 6:15 in the morning.”

Dean shrugged. “Coffee is a drink.”

They were already seated at a small table when Dean’s phone rang, and that’s when he realized he’d neglected to update his brother. “Hey, Sam. Yeah, I’m rebooked on the 12:30 flight.” He glanced at Cas. “Yeah, I got lucky and there was another guy at the gate in the same position and he helped me out. I’m buying him a drink now.” Cas lifted his coffee cup in a salute. “Yes, I’ll tell him. See you soon.”

“Tell me what?”

Dean ran a finger along the rim of his own mug. “I think Sam was worried I would just go home once the flight was cancelled. He said to thank you for being my guardian angel.”

Cas tossed back his head and laughed. “Hardly. But I’m glad I could help.”

Despite thinking he’d never be able to put anything in his stomach before he boarded, Dean found himself suddenly hungry and they ordered breakfast, chatting easily as they ate. It wasn’t until the food was gone that Dean focused again on the upcoming flight.

“How do you do this? How do you travel so much and stay so calm?”

Dean tried not to stare at the line of Cas’s throat as he drank his coffee. “You know they say the most dangerous part of your trip is the drive to the airport.”

“Not the way I drive,” Dean assured him. “And at least I’m in control of my fate when I’m behind the wheel. Up there it’s just…” He trailed off, waving his hand vaguely.

“I have faith in the people who built the planes as well as the people who fly them.”

“Ok, but have you _met_ people? Most of them are awful.”

Cas considered that. “That’s a pretty cynical view of humanity.”

“I notice you aren’t saying I’m wrong.”

Cas tilted his head as he looked at Dean. “Now and then I meet a gem.”

Dean felt a flush creep over his face that he hoped he could blame on the hot coffee. “You don’t say,” he managed.

Cas leaned forward. “I believe I just said so.”

Dean found his gaze involuntarily flicking to Cas’s mouth. The amused look he saw in Cas’s eyes when he looked up again told him it hadn’t escaped his notice.

When they returned to their gate, they took seats side by side. Cas sighed as his phone buzzed with a text. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to take care of some business.” He pulled out his laptop and a set of headphones and dialed into a conference call, identifying himself as Castiel Novak when he joined. Dean pretended to busy himself on his phone, but he was distracted by Cas's long fingers skimming across the keyboard. Cas didn’t speak too much, but everything he said seemed concise and decisive, sometimes clarifying another’s point so that he could provide accurate feedback. Dean liked that he wasn’t interested in hearing himself speak. His demeanor was just as it had been all morning: thoughtful and calm.

He imagined they looked an unlikely pair. Cas managed to still be fresh and unrumpled in his suit, while Dean noted a smear of bacon grease on his worn jeans. But occasionally Cas would catch Dean looking and roll his eyes at whatever he was listening to. Each time, Dean found himself grinning back.

Finally, it was time to board. Dean was grateful for the way Cas’s presence had kept him distracted, but once the pre-boarding announcements began, his apprehension returned with a vengeance. He tried to play it cool, casually breathing in through his nose and holding each breath for a count of four before letting it out. Cas, apparently, didn’t miss a thing and he leaned over so that their shoulders were touching. “You’ve got this.”

Dean didn’t believe it, but he nodded anyhow. Nonetheless, Cas had to put a hand on his arm to get him moving when it was their turn to board. He followed Cas, probably a bit too closely, barely acknowledging the agent who scanned his boarding pass and wished him a good flight. Hell, even the jetway felt rickety and unstable, but Dean found that keeping his eyes on the back of Cas’s neck helped. There were tiny bits of hair that curled there, and Dean imagined what it would feel like to trace each one with his finger. He hesitated when it was time to step onto the plane, the tiny gap between jetway and aircraft looming like a chasm. Maybe sensing his hesitation, Cas stepped back out and stood next to him, meeting his eyes. “Ok?”

Dean blew out a breath and formed an actual word. “Ok.”

With Cas’s palm on the small of his back, he stepped over the threshold.

Cas guided him down the aisle and even though Dean knew he should be looking for the proper row, he couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than how narrow the plane felt, how closed-in. He only stopped walking when Cas tugged on the back of his shirt. “Window or aisle?”

“I...I don’t know.” They both seemed equally bad.

“Window,” Cas decided for him, and as Dean maneuvered into the seat, he knew it was the right decision. Had he been sitting with a stranger, he might have felt penned in, caged in the small space, but with Cas in the seat beside him, he felt sheltered.

“Usually takeoff is the hardest part for people.” Cas leaned close as he spoke, his breath held hints of the coffee they’d had earlier but it was in no way unpleasant. “Once we even out, it should be easier.”

Dean couldn’t think of a way to tell him he’d be a wreck until they were safely on the ground in California. Cas was working so hard to be accommodating and helpful, but soon he would see that he was in over his head with Dean. He wished they had met in literally any other situation so that Cas could see what Dean was capable of, instead of seeing him at his worst. At least when they landed, Sam would be there, and Cas could go on with his own life, without having to babysit another grown man.

They both reached for their seatbelts at the same time, hands fumbling as they sorted out the ends. Dean accidentally brushed one hand against Cas’s thigh and found it surprisingly firm. He pulled his hand away like he’d been shocked but no doubt his red face gave him away.

Loading the plane seemed to take forever. It helped to take out the laminated card from the seatback in front of him and go over it, taking extra time to read through the safety information. Cas didn’t even make fun of him, merely staying still as Dean leaned into his personal space to crane his head and search for all the marked exits.

He tried to look out the window at the tarmac activity, at the luggage being driven and loaded, and the catering cars lifting up to load supplies into galley kitchens, but all he could see were the many opportunities for human error. Cas turned to him in surprise when he slammed the window shade shut.

Before he could explain, the intercom came alive with the announcement that the boarding door was closed. Cas dashed off one last work-related email then put his phone in airplane mode. Dean had to unbuckle his seatbelt to take his phone out and do the same, then he scrambled to re-buckle it, pulling the strap a little tighter. Moments later, the plane began to taxi.

Dean loved the feeling of speeding down a highway, steering the Impala along the open road as her tires ate up the miles. As the plane picked up speed on the runway, he found himself grinding his foot into the floor, pressing a phantom brake pedal. His hands gripped the armrests (Cas thoughtfully kept his hands in his own lap) and he squeezed his eyes shut during that sickening moment when he became weightless. He thought he was managing all right until the plane jolted a little on ascent and he startled, hands flying up in the air. In a heartbeat, Cas had taken his hand, not caring that Dean was squeezing hard enough to crush his fingers. He squeezed until the plane leveled out and, even with his eyes shut, he could feel Cas watching him. Slowly he blinked them open, but not slowly enough to miss Cas turning his head so as not to be caught staring. Now that the moment of crisis had passed, he focused on making his fingers unclench and waited for Cas to pull his hand away, but Cas only relaxed his own hand, shifting so that they were comfortably interlinked. Dean felt a lump in his throat at this kindness and had to turn to look out the (closed) window while he swallowed around it.

Neither of them said a word and slowly Dean began to relax. Finally he reached a point where he was able to turn to Cas and say, “You probably have work to do. Something that requires both hands…”

Cas glanced at his bag which was stowed under the seat in front of him. “Probably,” he agreed, but he made no move to reach for it. Instead he closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and continued to hold Dean’s hand.

Before long, Cas was softly snoring, and once Dean was sure he was asleep, he spent some time admiring his long dark lashes and the way his lips gently parted with each breath. They looked chapped and Dean found himself wondering how they would feel. The calm that Cas exuded even in his sleep had an almost hypnotic effect and Dean found himself stealing numerous glances at him, and at their joined hands. There was no way in hell Dean could relax enough to sleep, but the exhaustion of the early morning and the long day of waiting made his limbs heavy and he felt his muscles relax as he melded into his seat. His mind drifted and he pretended they were on a date, side by side in a darkened movie theater. Had this been a date, Dean might’ve lifted Cas’s hand to his mouth to kiss his knuckles, or laid a palm on his knee...

Dean was distracted from this reverie when the drink cart came through. The flight attendant smiled sweetly at them and asked softly if Dean wanted anything. With another glance at Cas, Dean thanked her and shook his head. A drink did sound nice, but he didn’t want to disturb Cas. It was the least he could do after everything he’d done for Dean. When Cas finally woke up, his eyes soft, the first thing he did after checking if Dean was ok was to thank him.

“I needed that nap and if you hadn’t been here, I never would have allowed myself to take it.” After a moment, he straightened up in his seat and sighed. “I do need to get some work done, however.”

Dean let go of his hand as Cas bent forward to retrieve his computer. Dean knew it was no coincidence that Cas kept his leg pressed against Dean’s as he worked, and he was grateful for it. It allowed him to stay calm enough to pull out his headphones and listen to music, even closing his own eyes for brief periods. Even though they flew open again at any hint of a bumpy ride, he was proud of himself for keeping it together. Mixed with that pride was the tiniest bit of disappointment, and he only spent a little time wondering what it would take to get Cas to reach for his hand again.

When the announcement came that all laptops had to be turned off and re-stowed, Cas put a stop to his work and tucked his computer back in his bag. There was a weird sensation like the plane had put on its brakes mid-air, even though they were still twenty minutes or so from landing. At that, Cas turned toward him, both eyebrows raised, and held out his hand again. Dean gladly took it, but there was an amused look in Cas’s eyes, and Dean knew he was being humored. It was ridiculous to think that he was anything other than a charity project here, probably bound to become a hilarious anecdote that Cas told to all his colleagues as they sat around a wood-paneled hotel lobby bar drinking Manhattans or some fancy shit. This flight had created a strange and particular space where they’d both stepped out of their normal lives, allowing him to cross paths with a man he would never have met otherwise. It had been fun and comforting, but it was coming to a close. This plane would land and they would move on in different directions. Cas would put on his trench coat and effortlessly hail a cab while Dean would try to pretend to know what the fuck he was doing as he found his way to the train.  

At least he would see Sam, Dean thought, as the plane hit a patch of what the pilot referred to as “choppy air”. Seemed like a pretty mild description for what would no doubt put him on the ground in unrecognizable pieces. If he survived the landing, he’d spend Christmas with his brother in California. He'd miss spending the day at Bobby's, but they’d be together in Sam’s little apartment, and that was pretty much the best gift he could ask for.

Thinking about that helped him not to squeeze Cas’s hand too hard. With his eyes tightly shut, he was taken by surprise when the wheels jolted against the tarmac. A roar filled his ears as the plane sped down the runway, and just when Dean was sure it was going to veer out of control, cartwheeling into destruction, instead it slowly and steadily came to a stop.

“You made it,” Cas said as they disentangled their hands.

Dean wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“You were very brave.” Dean didn’t have time to worry whether Cas was making fun of him or not because the seatbelt sign dinged and people began to stand in the aisles, gathering their belongings. He stayed seated while Cas got up, trying not to notice how his slacks completely masked the fact that he had thighs like nobody’s business. He carefully put on his trench coat, hiding even more of his shape, and then he handed Dean’s bag down to him.

“Thanks,” Dean said, scrambling to get it and slamming his head on the underside of the compartment as he misjudged the distance. “Fuck.”

Cas looked alarmed and started to reach a hand out. “Are you all right?”

Dean tried for a smile. “Now you know I’m no better on land than I am mid-flight.”

Like the gentleman he was, Cas took a step back and let Dean out of the row so that he could make his way up the aisle. With Cas behind him, Dean took a moment to roll his eyes at his own idiocy before thanking the flight attendants on his way out the door.

“Have a good one, you two,” one of them said and Dean tried not to wince at what Cas must be thinking.

Inside the airport, people were standing in the gate area waiting for their chance to board. After the claustrophobic feel of the plane, Dean should’ve been happy to be back on solid ground, but a sense of sadness dimmed the excitement. Once they’d bypassed the crowd, he took a quick step to the side and turned to look at Cas, who stopped and moved to join him.

Dean took a deep breath before he spoke. “I wanted to thank you for being so nice today. I know you didn’t start your day thinking you’d have to babysit a grown man, but I really appreciated it.” He rubbed a hand to the back of his neck before adding. “I wasn’t exactly at my best today and I really wish we could’ve met in pretty much any other situation.”

Cas stared at him, his eyes blue and thoughtful. He kept his eyes on Dean even as he reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and retrieved a card and a pen. “I would very much like to see you at your best, Dean.” He wrote on the card and held it out. “I put my cell number on the back. If you’d like to get together, give me a call when you’re back in town.”

Dean felt a grin break across his face. “Yeah ok.” He slipped the card into his pocket and watched as Cas strode away.

 

 

 

Christmas in California was...different. There was no snow and no tree, but Sam was there, seemingly taller and more broad-shoulder than the last time Dean had seen him. His hair was too long but even as Dean gave him shit about it, he nearly swelled with pride at how well his brother was doing. He had friends and good grades and Dean was so pleased that it helped ease the ache of not being needed so much anymore.

It was good to see where Sam spent his time, even boring places like the library and the small grocery store where he shopped. He liked seeing Sam’s familiar things, his clothes and books, comfortably scattered around his new apartment. Having his own place made Sam magnanimous, and he’d insisted on giving Dean the bed while he sprawled out on the too-small couch. Sam included Dean in everything, but by the time Christmas Day came and went, Dean was antsy to get back to his own life.

“Are you sure you can’t stay longer?” Sam asked as Dean carefully repacked his quart-sized bag into the outside pocket of his suitcase. 

Dean shook his head. “I gotta get back to work. And you’ll be back in class before long.”

“I’ll be back home again before you know it.”

He hugged his brother, holding on a little longer than necessary. “You’re killing it out here.”

Sam ducked his head, but he smiled. “Thanks. It means a lot that you would come out here. I know how hard this is for you.”

Dean shrugged. “I’m a pro now.”

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have one eye out for Cas at the airport. He had no idea how long his business trip was. Probably he’d been home days ago, back with family or friends in time for Christmas, but that didn’t stop Dean from looking. He navigated the airport with relative ease this time around, steadied his own breathing as he walked the jetway, and found his own seat. Everything went as smoothly as it possibly could and when the ride got a little bumpy, if he clasped his hands together and pretended he was holding Cas’s, well, nobody needed to know.

 

_...give me a call when you’re back in town_ , Cas had said. Dean spent the next few days turning that sentence over and over in his mind. It would be easy to text him; but Cas had said to call. That was a way bigger deal.  A text could be sent off, phone pocketed, and the whole matter out of his hands. It was tempting, but maybe he would look immature if he texted, like someone who couldn’t handle adult responsibility.

He didn’t work up his nerve until New Year’s Eve. He’d been invited out to celebrate at a bar, which was everything he liked: friends, alcohol, the easy chance of finding someone to hook up with at midnight. It was everything he liked but whenever he thought about it, he knew whoever he found wouldn’t satisfy the buzzing that Cas had left under his skin. No doubt Cas already had plans, but that thought was what finally made the phone call feel doable.

Like an idiot, Dean found himself smoothing his hair before he took the business card out from its secure resting spot in his wallet. As soon as it started ringing, he began pacing his small apartment.

“Castiel Novak.” There it was, that same deep voice that had become so familiar as they spent the day together.

“Uh hi, Cas.” The name felt strange in his mouth even though he’d thought it a thousand times since then. “This is Dean...from the plane.”

There was a long pause and Dean realized how ridiculous that sounded and how stupid he’d been for calling.

Cas’s voice was a lot warmer when he said, “Hello, Dean.”

Neither one of them said anything for a moment and Dean realized he was standing in the corner and smiling. “Hi.”

“Are you back home?”

“I am. Did you have a nice holiday?” Look at Dean making grown up conversation like a grown up.

“I visited my mother and it was...fine.”

Dean laughed. “That sounds convincing.”

“It was everything I expected. And you? Did you have a good visit with your brother?”

“I did,” Dean said with no hesitation. “He’s doing great and it was good to spend some time with him.”

“I’m glad.”

“Yeah, me too.” Dean paced again in the silence. “So, uh, I know it’s New Year’s Eve and you probably have plans but I thought maybe we could try to find a time to get together. If you still wanted to, I mean.” His voice came out a little breathy and he couldn’t seem to stop himself from talking too fast.

“Actually…” he began. “I got invited to a colleague’s house this evening.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Dean said right away.

“Which I was going to attend merely out of obligation.”

Something warm flickered in Dean’s chest. “You don’t say.”

“Are you telling me you don’t already have plans?”

“Nothing that can’t be changed.” Dean ran a hand through his hair and glanced around his living room. “Would you...like to come over?”

“I’d like that very much.”

While Dean was giving Cas his address, he began to scramble around the apartment picking things up. He cursed himself for not having vacuumed but he got the place into reasonable shape, provided Cas had no reason to open his bedroom closet to find the things he’d shoved in there.

When there was a knock on his door, Dean had to bend over to catch his breath, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans. Once he’d composed himself, he opened the door. Even in the snow, Cas wore his trench coat and it wasn’t until he stepped inside and took it off that Dean realized he’d been picturing him exclusively in his suit and tie. Tonight, Cas was dressed casually in a deep blue sweater and well-worn jeans.The jeans clung to him in a way his slacks never had, putting those thick thighs on display. The sweater brought out his eyes in such a way that Dean knew it had been selected expressly for that purpose.

It was that detail—the fact that Cas was making an effort to look good for him—that flipped a switch somewhere inside Dean, evaporating all of his nervousness. He was no longer the stressed out traveler, anxious and unsure. He was Dean Winchester and _this_ he knew how to do. He watched Cas’s eyes grow large as he leaned into his space, one arm outstretched.

“You’ve got some snow in your hair.” With careful fingers, he brushed away the snowflakes which mostly melted at his touch. Leaning back, he watched Cas’s eyes flick down to his mouth before he swallowed audibly and held out the bottle he’d carried inside.

“For toasting the new year.”

Dean ushered him into the kitchen. “If you’ll open it, I’ll get….well, beer glasses are all I have.”

“That works.” Dean watched as Cas used his long, graceful fingers to make short work of the champagne cork. He poured them each a generous amount.

Dean snagged the bottle as they relocated to his couch. Champagne wasn’t his favorite, but as they settled in side-by-side, Dean held his glass out for a toast. “To cancellations.”

Cas clinked his glass against Dean’s. “And new connections.”

The bubbles tickled Dean’s nose, but the champagne went down smooth and easy. Dean felt himself begin to warm almost immediately, but maybe that had something to do with the way Cas was licking the remnants off his lips. They sat for a moment and smiled at each other, comfortable in their silence.

Cas reached for the bottle and refilled their glasses, wrapping one hand around Dean’s wrist to hold his glass still as he did so. Dean felt each press of his fingers like fire against his skin. He watched the flex of Cas’s shoulder as he replaced the bottle on the coffee table, and when he turned back around, Dean leaned in and kissed him.

Cas was responsive, mouth cold and slightly sweet from the champagne, and he reached for Dean’s arm with his free hand, holding him close. When they pulled apart, Dean smiled at him. “I’m glad I have this chance to properly thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Cas said. “Anytime.”

Dean shook his head, and Cas looked concerned. “Oh no. We’re just getting started.” Despite having the whole expanse of the couch, their legs were pressed together, like they had been in the cramped row. It wasn’t lost on him that Cas was sitting to his left, just as they had been on the plane.  “It was the thought of being with you like this that kept me distracted on the flight.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Dean laid a hand on Cas’s thigh, letting himself really feel the firm muscle there. With another swallow of champagne to fortify him, Dean put his glass on the table and Cas quickly followed suit. As soon as he did, Dean lowered himself to the floor to kneel between Cas’s legs. Cas wasn’t content to sit back, though, and leaned forward to capture Dean’s mouth again. They kissed long and slow while Dean smoothed his hands over Cas’s thighs, then teased to tangle in the hem of his sweater. As they kissed, Dean worked his thumbs underneath the sweater and he felt Cas jump a little as he found the bare skin of his stomach. He rubbed along the waistband of his jeans, before getting both of his hands under the soft fabric. Pushing it up, Dean trailed kisses upwards, resting his hands at Cas’s waist to work his way along his sternum before veering sideways to ghost a kiss over a sensitive nipple. In response, Cas gripped at his shoulder for a moment while he let his head tip back against the couch cushion.

His hands seemed tentative, brushing through Dean’s hair before gliding over his shoulders, unsure of where to let them light. When Dean flicked his tongue against the hardening nipple, Cas’s breath hitched and he grabbed a handful of Dean’s shirt. Dean smiled against his skin, then continued to blaze a path of hot, wet kisses down his ribcage as he deftly reached for Cas’s fly. Just popping the button open was enough to have Cas shifting in his seat, but Dean merely dragged one finger along the zipper, feeling the swell as Cas’s erection came to life. He cupped his hand over it, exploring the edges in light, teasing touches, never giving Cas the pressure he clearly craved if the tilt of his hips was any indication. When he finally undid the zipper, it was only to peel back the edges of the denim, uncovering hipbones so sharp that Dean had to stop what he was doing and fit his mouth to them immediately. He traced them with his tongue, then bit down hard on the jut of bone causing Cas to make the most beautiful choked-off sound. Dean soothed the area with his tongue before redirecting his attention to mouth over Cas’s now fully hard cock through the cotton of his underwear. Dean couldn’t resist nuzzling in there, knowing it was oddly intimate to press his face into the crease of Cas’s hip to breathe him in, but he was filled with a wave of gratitude at how lucky he was to have another chance with this man who exuded kindness and strength in such equal measures. That Dean now had him squirming under his hands and mouth was a heady feeling, and he pulled back long enough to catch Cas’s eye as he at last slipped a finger under the waistband of his underwear.

“You good?” Cas’s body gave him that answer without being prompted, but it gave Dean the chance to look up at him through his lashes and slowly lick his lips as he waited for a response.

Cas looked down at him and only managed a breathy, “ _Jesus_.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Eyes still on Cas, Dean dipped down to lick at the flushed head of Cas’s cock. Cas went nearly boneless as Dean began to work him over, letting Dean push his knees wider, his hand again gently in Dean’s hair, a soft motion almost like petting him. With one hand on a firm thigh and the other wrapped around the base of Cas’s cock, Dean let his tongue explore the length of him, lapping up the beading pre-come, and experimenting as he learned what Cas liked. When Dean returned to the spot right under the head, pressing his tongue there, Cas moaned softly and Dean did it again and again until Cas tugged at his hair. At that, Dean had to undo his own jeans, desperate to get a hand on his cock, the touch even better with his mouth stretched around Cas.

But apparently Cas wasn’t as lost in the sensation as Dean imagined, and before he’d managed more than a cursory touch, Cas reached to pull his hand away. “Don’t you dare,” he nearly growled, leaving Dean to sit back in surprise.

Cas took advantage of this and pulled him upwards, manhandling him into position until he was straddling Cas’s lap. He kissed Dean hard as he reached for his cock, curling his long fingers around him just this side of too-tight until Dean gasped. Cas’s tongue probed as if he wanted to find every last trace of his own taste in Dean’s mouth. Dean knew he should be doing something to reciprocate, but the slide of Cas’s hand was so perfect that he was unable to do anything but steady himself by grabbing onto Cas’s shoulders.

When Cas stopped and instead placed his palm on Dean’s chest to push at him, Dean leaned back, concerned he’d done something wrong. Cas looked up at him hungrily, his mouth pink and shiny, as he slid the hand down again, reaching for his own cock which had been trapped between their bodies. Dean got with the program quickly, scooting back a little so that Cas could get his hands on both of them. It was awkward with them still mostly dressed, and the denim pulled tight around Dean’s hips, but he couldn’t bear to break apart from Cas long enough to pull them off. Dean watched as Cas stroked them both, rocking his hips up into the circle of his fist, feeling the feverish heat where they slid against each other. Cas’s other hand was jammed in the back of his jeans, one finger teasing at the crack of Dean’s ass. He watched until the sparks of his pleasure flared and caught fire and then he pressed his forehead against Cas’s. From far away he heard himself almost chanting _yeah_ over and over with each panting breath until he came, hot and hard all over Cas’s hand and his blue sweater. He was still riding out the aftermath when Cas surged up to kiss him again as he followed him over the edge.

Dean’s thighs burned and as he shifted, his zipper came dangerously close to jabbing his balls. As much as he hated to, he climbed off of Cas’s lap to sit shakily back beside him. Cas’s sweater was a mess, even more so when he wiped his hand on it. Dean was already mentally choosing a shirt to lend him when Cas smiled at him, blinking hazily.  

Dean grinned. “Happy New Year.”

Cas reached for his hand. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a good one.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first half of this when I got stranded in the Vancouver airport when my flight was cancelled out of the blue. Stuck there for hours, I made friends with another woman who was also traveling, and I couldn't stop thinking about what a cute way this would be for Dean and Cas to meet. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and for your support for my writing this year. Wishing you all a happy and healthy 2019!
> 
> I'm [scones-and-texting-and-murder](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/scones-and-texting-and-murder) on tumblr. My sfw fic can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/pseuds/sconesandtextingandmurder).


End file.
